These highly malty, highly alcoholic brews don't pair well with warm weather and summer cookouts, but once autumn starts painting leaves and chills the evenings, a goblet full of barleywine is tough to beat. A good barleywine is rich, warming and soul-soothing.

My most recent brush with barleywine came from Left Hand Brewing Company, a creative beermaker from Colorado. It is called Widdershins, a Scottish word meaning "counter-clockwise" or "against the movement of the sun." (I once had a fantasy football team called the Widdershin Mingols, and if you get that old-school nerd reference without Googling, you should look me up on Twitter. We'll probably get along famously.)

This brew from Left Hand pours a nice coppery color with a head that fades very quickly — given the 10.7 percent alcohol by volume, that is not a big surprise.

I liked the nose right away, with its features of apricots and bread and just a smattering of hops. There is a big dose of oak, too, mostly in the finish.

I liked the first sip, too. Malty richness, honeyed smoothness, flavors of apricots and prunes and alcohol heat all made for a pleasing quaff. Served at 55 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit, this is a great choice for an autumn evening on the porch, sipping while listening to night birds or the strums of an acoustic guitar playing something mellow.

If your previous experience with barleywine is Sierra Nevada's excellent Bigfoot, this one may catch you off guard. Widdershins lacks the aggressive hoppiness of Bigfoot. It presents a smoother, maltier vibe.

I would serve this with any roasted fowl or pork. I suspect it would do well with pecan pie, too. Its best moments, however, would involve close friends, night sky, a nice bonfire and freewheeling conversation. Or, pour a goblet and put some Brahms, Mozart or Arcangelo Corelli on the stereo. Or James Taylor. Think mellow.

Left Hand says this one will do well in the cellar for up to five years — an experiment I am willing to try, so long as one of those perfect Brahms-and-barleywine evenings doesn't induce me to pop open a bottle. I have only so much willpower, after all.